I grew up a short, white, and slow coach's son just across the river from Purdue's campus. My dad coached girls basketball at Lafayette Jeff until I was about 10 or 11, then coached with the boy's team from my 6th grade year to the time I graduated (Top 20 in my class, so shove it National Honor Society). I always tagged along with my dad, no matter where he went. He would take me scouting, on the bus to away games, and we would be the last ones to leave the school after games. I loved the game and couldn't get enough. I thought I was well on my way to an outstanding high school career.
Let's fast forward to my high school career. There I stood, a freakish 5' 6", 135 lb. sophomore who's body wasn't even considering hitting puberty. I was getting solid JV minutes and had only one skill, putting the ball in the hoop from a long way away. I was essentially a high school junior varsity version of JJ Redick. It was at this time that I figured out college basketball wasn't an option for me. To summarize the rest of my career, I grew six inches by the time I graduated, played at a high level of Indiana basketball, and ended up at Purdue.
I arrived at Purdue with no way of knowing what I was going to do. I had to be involved in basketball somehow, it had been my life up until that point. I applied to be a manager for the men's basketball team, but was let down easy Billy Currington style. With an air-soft gun to my head wondering what I was going to do with my life, I caught word of the women's basketball team needing guys to help them with practice. I got in contact with the powers that be, signed more compliance forms than I ever wished to, and technically became a student athlete. I paid the fee, I signed the forms, and I get to use the student athlete entrance into Mackey Arena. So, I took that as meaning I should be able to get into frat parties even if I don't know anyone in the fraternity, have people do my homework for me, and show up late to class with my hoodie up and Beats by Dre on then proceed to nap during lecture. I was getting ready to live the high life, and was planning on having that black guy from the Miller High Life commercials follow me around everywhere. But, I was in for a rude awakening.
I show up to the first day of practice without any of the cool gear the players were wearing, and not really knowing what exactly I'm supposed to do. I just remember running around like a fool at 100 MPH and trying to score on everyone. There were two distinct moments that I remember because after head coach Sharon Versyp yelled at me for doing these things I felt like I had brought shame to my family name. The first instance occurred when I was fronting one of the players in the post, and a guard tried to pass it over me (for those of you who don't know what fronting is, it's when you're too afraid to get backed down in the post so you stand in front of the player). Naturally, I jump up like Blake Griffin and steal the pass. Coach Versyp blows the whistle immediately after. I don't recall the exact words, but it was similar to getting the "you can't do that" chant yelled at you. The second instance was when I made probably the most athletic move I've ever made and blocked one of the girls' shot up against the backboard. Again, the "you can't do that" chant came my way. I had taken something away from that day. I was basically told that part of being a practice player was not playing defense, which came naturally to me anyways. By the time a few weeks of practice had passed, I realized that my role of a practice player was to physically get my ass beat by girls for three hours a day. If this sort of thing happened in elementary school, I'd be the kid they pick last for kickball. At Purdue, I get rewarded with some shirts, shorts, shoes, and a bruise the size of an orange on my thigh all winter. Welcome to the life of a practice bitch.
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